


the rest of my days, in peace

by itsallrelativ3



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AruAni, F/M, Hurt and comfort, Nightmares, if they get a happy ending, post 135??post manga??, tw mentions of assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27886057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallrelativ3/pseuds/itsallrelativ3
Summary: "she's stuck in my heart now, where my blood belongs"armin is going through it
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Annie Leonhart
Comments: 5
Kudos: 62





	the rest of my days, in peace

**Author's Note:**

> coping with ch 135, give them a break

There's a strange sensation that comes along with jolting awake in the middle of the night.

No matter the temperature, his body feels like it's burning all along the edges, so the shivering itself comes as rather unnatural. This is also the only time he feels truly aware of his own heartbeat. Oh, and there's also the sweating.

Some nights, he quietly gets out of bed and taps somewhere far away. Gets some fresh night air or some water or something. He's always been good at sorting these things out by himself. Mostly by talking to himself. Rationalizing is good, not burdening others with your nonsense is good. He's able to do that much, at the very least.

This particular night wasn't as lucky. It felt as if dozens of invisible chilly hands were reaching out to him, his throat suffocated, whole body pulsating. 

_where is this_

He looks down at his hands. They're either really shaky or it's his vision that's really blurry. Hard to tell and unimportant. Point is, he is now stuck in this situation. His muscles don't move an inch, so what else is there to do? Like a silent call for help, the only kind he knows of.

_what is this_

It's really cold. 

_what was it even about_

The dreams can be anything ; borderline memories, childhood scenarios that seem likely probable, but have never happened. Sometimes it's guts. It's often bodies of small children underneath some rubble. If his mind really wants to reward him, it's someone's hands across his body, but not the welcoming ones. This one might have just been them all, all the dreams in one. The scenario didn't matter, he'd forget everything about it except for the way it had made him feel. 

_breathe_

He takes in long, shaky breaths. An involuntary call for help. He hates it.

-„…“

-„…Armin?“

Her voice was so small at times like these. But he'd already messed up. This wasn't going to be a lucky night of leaving her unbothered. God, she was already on it. A small hand was making soft circles on his back.

-„hey…“ such a small voice. So quiet, too. „it's ok.“

She'd lay her hand on his cheek. Her skin was always very cold, so it felt nice against the soggy, teary surface. He only nodded.

-„let's lay down,“ so small „okay?“

She'd carefully pull him down onto the pillow and get the covers over them, but he still wasn't quite there.

_Was he ever really there? At which point did he start feeling like he was losing it? When was it that-_

-„Hey“ – a bit louder this time „look at me.“ It was hard. But he always would.(who wouldn't want to look at her) He knew what she was like. The concepts of comforting and being comforted were still unknown to her, even though the latter was something she'd been getting a lot of in recent times. And she'd always try to pretend nothing was getting to her. But this was getting to her. Every night that ends up like this would get to her. 

But she was too much, too _good_. Before he knew it, he'd already be held tightly against her chest, and showered with small pecks on his forehead and the top of his head. Late night affection, the kind never to be spoken of again. 

But that's how they were. And it was all they knew, and it was enough.

„it's okay. There.“ she'd squeeze him. And when and what did he ever do to earn this. Nothing, ever. 

Eventually, his shaking would stop and his muscles would ease up. He'd let out a small chuckle to send her worries away, a sad sound.  
And they'd just stay curled up like that. 

He'd speak in what felt like the first time in forever, whisper something into her chest, along the lines of „thank you“

She'd let out a disappointed, comedic sigh at this -„You're a fool.“ Was her only remark. 

But she wouldn't let go.


End file.
